Snow White Queen
by Linwe Elendil
Summary: This story is now being continued under the name It's Not Over. See author's note. Bond confronts Mr. White, M, and himself, as he deals with Vesper's death. See sequel, It's Not Over.
1. Snow White Queen

Disclaimer: Don't own Bond, and can't seem to put my muse on hold! I finally read Casino Royale, and loved it! This story is a combination of the book and the movie – hopefully it blends well…

The song referenced is "Snow White Queen" by Evanescence. I don't own that either, and am not making a profit by adding it to the story. No copyright infringement is intended. Honest!

* * *

**Stoplight lock the door  
Don't look back  
Undress in the dark  
And hide from you  
All of you  
**

James snuck silently into Vesper's room and closed the door softly. He had initially been excited when Vesper told him they were going to a sea-side inn as part of his recovery, but she had registered them in separate rooms. They hadn't made love since that day in the exam room, and she had been rather quiet all day. Following dinner there at the inn, Vesper had said she was tired and returned to her room – leaving James watching her window. The light had come on for a few minutes, and once the room went dark again, James had stood.

Now that he was there with her, he felt a slight hesitation – but the light lingering scent of her perfume drew him to the bed anyway. He removed his dinner jacket and shoes before slipping under the sheets, and wrapped an arm around her waist; spooning up behind her. He felt her shiver – with pleasure, he hoped – as he brushed the hair from her neck and ran his lips over her skin.

Vesper stirred in his arms, and rolled over to face him. He couldn't see her in the dark, but her cool hand reached up to caress his forehead and he sighed. Her lips found his and they drank each other in – his hands running across her back as she slowly undid his shirt.

**You'll never know the way your words have haunted me  
I can't believe you'd ask these things of me  
you don't know me **

Vesper stared at James, her incredulity carefully hidden.

"You love me?"

It took all her strength not to give in right then and tell him everything. She felt a lump rise in her throat as he kissed her again, laying her back in the sand.

_I don't deserve him_, she thought – forcing the pain further from the surface of her feelings. _He can never know what I've done…_

**You belong to me  
my snow white queen  
there's nowhere to run, so lets just get it over  
soon I know you'll see  
you're just like me  
don't scream anymore my love, cause all I want is you  
**

As James waded near the beach, he reflected that he had never been so happy. It sounded so cliché, that he couldn't help but smile at himself. He had told Vesper that he meant to quit his job, and every day it sounded like a better idea. The only problem was how to tell M. He knew she would be furious, and almost wished he could do it in person, just to see the shocked look on her face. But he also knew that she was very persuasive and had a very short fuse. First she would try to change his mind, then the cold fury would emerge. That was the reason James enjoyed making her life hell. It was the only way to find humor in his job, though he would never tell M that. She would have him strung up by his thumbs. Or maybe his little fingers…

Thinking of Vesper, he smiled again and dove into the ocean for a nice long swim.

**Wake up in a dream  
frozen fear  
all your hands on me  
I can't scream  
**

_It was a Saturday, and Vesper found herself back at work. She was so dreadfully behind, and knew that her boss would have her head if all the accounts weren't balanced by Monday morning._

_The next few hours crept by as she checked facts and figures against the balance sheets. She reached for her coffee, and noticed with regret that she was out again. For the 6th time that morning, in fact. She stood and stretched as she walked to the coffee pot. It too was empty. _Of course_, she thought rolling her eyes. She readied the machine, and stretched again as it began brewing. _Well, I've got time for a trip to the loo_, she thought, and set her mug down._

_Walking through the deserted office, she thought of Terry. They had a date that night, and Vesper wanted to be sure she had plenty of time to get ready. As she stepped into the hall and veered toward the bathrooms, she saw a man leaning against the wall by the elevator. _That's odd, _she thought, then shrugged. _Well, I can't be the only one who's behind on their work. Happens all the time, I'm sure.

_Pushing open the bathroom door, she entered – and was just about to choose a stall – when she heard the door open again behind her. She turned around to find herself face to face with the man from the elevators. He had dark hair, swept to one side. His face was chiseled as if from granite, and a small predatory smile crossed his lips. He was dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt that did nothing to hide his toned physique. Vesper felt her stomach drop – a first taste of fear._

"_Um," she murmured, her mind frozen, "I'll just…" she trailed off and moved for the exit, but he deftly stood before her, blocking her only avenue of escape. Vesper stuttered, "I… please…" Her thoughts jammed as he shook his head._

"_This just isn't your lucky day," he said, his voice cold._

_Vesper tried to scream, but found she couldn't breathe properly. There would be no one to hear her anyway, and the man knew it. She looked to the door again, and made a quick faint to the left before pushing past him on the right, but he didn't fall for it. Grabbing her by the shoulders, the man threw Vesper into the wall with such ease that her terror doubled. _He's too strong for me!_ she thought wildly. Her eyes began madly scanning the room for a weapon as he advanced._

_Suddenly, the bathroom door was thrown open, and Vesper watched as Terry ran in, breathless in his rush to save her. Vesper tried to calm her racing heart as her attacker turned to face her boyfriend. They stared each other down for a moment. _

"_Let her go," Terry said, his voice carrying authority and assurance._

"_No," said the stranger. "I'm going to have a little fun with her."_

"_Over my dead body," Terry replied, his jaw and hands clenched._

_The dark haired man reached into his pocket and pulled out a silenced gun. Without even a word of warning, he fired, hitting Terry directly in the heart. Vesper screamed as his body spun and hit the floor. Blood began pooling around Terry as the dark man re-holstered his weapon. "If you say so."_

_Vesper ran to Terry and crouched down beside him. She turned him over, hoping to see some remaining spark in his green eyes. But she gasped as she saw – they were blue._

"James!"

Vesper screamed and railed against the bed sheets that covered her. She was drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. Strong arms grabbed her wrists and she struggled, the terror of her nightmare still upon her.

"Vesper, relax! It's me." She forced herself to stop moving and opened her eyes. James lay there next to her, his expression one of concern. "Are you alright?" In answer, Vesper curled into his bare chest and sobbed. "Hey," James said soothingly as he held her, "Its okay. It was just a bad dream."

She shook her head and cried harder – her guilt pouring from her eyes. _He's dead. They've killed him. He's dead…_ While she didn't know this for a fact, it was as if her heart had already come to the conclusion. They wouldn't let Terry live, and they would probably kill her too, for good measure; all the loose ends cleaned up.

Ten minutes later, her breathing slowed, and she looked up at James. "I have to get out of here. I want to go somewhere else – anywhere. Please." Her eyes pleaded with him. Bond had a million questions, but kept silent. Now was not the time to ask. After a moment he nodded.

"Ever been to Venice?" he replied.

**I can't escape the twisted way you think of me  
I feel you in my dreams and I don't sleep  
**

Vesper tried not to jump as her cell phone chirped. She had a message. Mr. White had told her they would make the exchange today, but she hoped he was delaying it again. He had already done so twice – though Vesper had no idea why. The constant changes had left her nerves shaky, but she didn't think James noticed. She was becoming good at hiding things from him, and it was killing her. _I wonder if this is how it feels to lose your soul, _she wondered idly. Now she understood why James was so willing to leave his job. _This isn't living._ The only time she felt anything was when she was in his arms, but then the guilt would well up again, destroying her illusion of happiness.

She picked up the phone to read, "You have thirty minutes."

"I'll be there in twenty," she replied. A lie to James rolled easily from her tongue, and she grabbed her purse, about to drop her cell phone in. She stopped, suddenly hesitant. Maybe she could get a message to James after all. While he got dressed, she typed an entry for him; Mr. White's name and phone number. He wouldn't need any more than that. She left the phone on the dresser and walked with him to the elevator.

**You belong to me  
my snow white queen  
there's nowhere to run, so lets just get it over  
soon I know you'll see  
you're just like me  
don't scream anymore my love, cause all I want is you  
**

"Allow me," James whispered as this new villain threatened to kill Vesper. He still reeled from her betrayal. He had loved her. Somewhere in the back of his mind a question fought for his attention – but his rage drowned it out. He contemplated how easily Vesper had made his blood boil; first with passion, and now with anger. The part of him that wanted to hold her soft body was sinking fast into oblivion. James could almost feel his heart shrink as his thoughts raced.

Bond recognized that his emotions were getting in the way, and knew they could get him killed. One blink brought his focus where it belonged. _I have to get the money back._ He held his gun ready as he heard their retreating footsteps.

I can't save your life  
though nothing I bleed for is more tormenting  
I'm losing my mind and you just stand there and stare as my world divides

Bond slowly came to himself again. He was on the roof of the collapsed building. Looking down, he saw that he still held Vesper's cold body. He laid her down and his brow furrowed as he wiped trails of water from his face. His eyes and throat felt raw. _Have I been crying?_ He glanced around him as he heard sirens. _The Venice police will be here soon._

He stood, but could not leave the dead woman. His tried to convince himself that she meant nothing to him anymore. _But you loved her! _his heart raged against him. _So, what?_ his mind countered. _Even if I did, she's dead._ _I don't owe her anything._

In the end, the arrival of the police made the argument moot. Bond pulled his sopping identification from his trousers and asked if he could go back to his hotel room and change before answering their questions. Maybe they guessed that he had no intentions of reporting to the station, because they flatly refused his request. Bond resigned himself to spending the next few hours with the police and climbed quietly into one of the waiting boats. He didn't even turn around to see them loading Vesper's body into a long bag. His thoughts coldly told him that he didn't care, but his heart knew better. He couldn't stand to watch them closing her in that plastic prison – the sense of finality would be too much for him to handle.

As James looked aimlessly across the canal, something surfaced in his mind. It was the question he had buried earlier. _Why would the man have threatened to kill Vesper if they were on the same side?_

Bond's brow furrowed again for a moment before the coldness took over. _It doesn't matter now. She's dead._

**You belong to me  
my snow white queen  
there's nowhere to run, so lets just get it over  
soon I know you'll see  
you're just like me  
don't scream anymore my love, cause all I want is you**

They had released him three hours later, and Bond had gone directly back to his hotel room. He gathered all of Vesper's belongings together and shut them in a drawer. Then, grabbing a change of clothes, he retreated to the bathroom. Steam began to fill the room as he undressed, peeling the ruined clothes from his body. He glanced at the shower as a memory of the previous day burst into his mind.

_The two of them stood together as James washed her hair. She insisted on returning the favor, but used too much shampoo. Soon, the shower floor slick with foam, they fell – laughing. James spotted the beginnings of a coy smile on Vesper's face as she reached for him…_

Bond stepped in the shower alone. Images of Vesper ran through his thoughts as the water cascaded down his body. Turning his face into the spray, he found himself back at the elevator, struggling to open the doors as she choked. Shaking his head violently, he turned the cold water off, and gritted his teeth as hot water began to scald his skin. He surrendered to the pain, and ran a hand over his face.

It was good to feel something again.

* * *

The end! 

Of this chapter at least. This one might have a sequel. I'm not sure yet.

What do you think? Reviews anyone? Pretty please?!

(And yes, I just made up the name of Vesper's boyfriend. I don't think we've ever heard what it is…)


	2. Last Rose of Summer

Disclaimer: Still don't own Bond, but my copy of Casino Royale finally came in the mail! Honestly, it would have been faster for me to drive to Wal-Mart and buy it!

I'm sure fans of "Nightmares" must hate me right now! I'm nearly done with that story, but I just got Hayley Westenra's new album, and one of the songs reminded me so much of Bond and Vesper that I had to write this! The song is called "The Last Rose of Summer."

On an unrelated note, I finally know why I write fan fiction! I stink at trying to create videos on You Tube, so this is the only alternative I have…

* * *

'**Tis the last rose of summer  
Left blooming all alone,  
All her lovely companions  
Are faded and gone.**

His phone chirped in the early morning hours, and Bond rolled over in bed. He wanted nothing more than to throw the blasted thing into the ocean right now. As the lingering cobwebs of sleep cleared, he saw that M was calling him. He accepted the call and silently put the phone up to his ear.

"Bond? How are you doing?"

"Fine," he replied curtly.

"I wanted to talk to you about your resignation. I need you to officially rescind it before I can put you back on active duty."

"Alright," he answered. "Do I just send you another email?"

"No, I'm afraid this needs to be done in person." There was a pause. "When can we expect you back in London?"

Bond looked around the darkness of the hotel room. "In a day or so. I have something I have to do first."

M hesitated. "Bond, I felt you should know… Ms. Lynd's body is being brought back here, and the funeral is going to be in three days." There was no response. "Bond?"

"I heard. I don't think I'll be back in time." James really didn't know how long it would take him to track down Mr. White – not that he had any intention of going to a funeral, even if he was back.

"May I ask what it is that's keeping you in Venice?" He could hear the masked concern in her voice, and had a sudden urge to hang up immediately. He didn't need a mother.

"See you in a few days," he said, and pushed the End button.

**No flower of her kindred,  
No rose bud is nigh,  
To reflect back her blushes,  
Or give sigh for sigh.**

Bond shoved his Walther into its holster and grabbed his suit coat. Gruffly pushing his arms in the sleeves, he looked in the mirror to straighten his tie. As he finished tucking it into his vest, James was suddenly tempted to look out the bathroom door – surely she would be there, mocking his vanity with a smile.

His eyes fluttered closed as the wound of grief broke open again. For a moment, James allowed himself to remember her – walking in to kiss him on the cheek during the game (she was even more beautiful than he realized), their relaxed dinner after he had won, that day on the beach…

Bond shook his head viciously and tried to swallow the rising lump in his throat. _You do what I do for too long, and there won't be any soul left to salvage. I'm leaving with what little I have left. Is that enough for you?_ James stared at his reflection. Soulless blue eyes stared back.

**I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,  
To pine on the stem;**

**Since the lovely are sleeping,**

**Oh! Sleep thou with them.**

Bond casually sauntered up to Mr. White – reveling in the man's pain. A grin surfaced as he hung up Vesper's phone and placed it back in his pocket, his sub-machine gun still menacingly held at the ready.

"The name's Bond. James Bond."

"What do you want?" gasped Mr. White.

"Everything," Bond answered. "You are going to tell me all about the organization you work for, and you are going to get me the contents of the silver briefcase." Bond's expression was so cold, that Mr. White began to tremble in fear.

"I'm sorry about the girl. I would have let her go, after this was done."

At this, James seemed to snap. He dropped the gun and grabbed Mr. White by the lapels of his jacket, hauling him to his feet. Breathing heavily, he began to think of everything he could do to cause pain to the parasite before him. But Bond quickly came to his senses and contained his rage – while cursing himself for showing weakness.

White seemed to smile, "Meant a lot to you, did she?"

James bit back his reply. White was trying to throw him off; hoping to distract him into making a mistake. _Well,_ _it's not going to work…_ Bond head-butted the man and dropped him – watching as his body rolled back down the steps.

**Thus kindly I scatter  
Thy leaves o'er the bed  
Where thy mates of the garden  
Lie scentless and dead.**

M sat alone in her office – finishing her report of what had been dubbed the Casino Royale case.

"_Agent 007 discovered the withdrawal of the winnings from a local branch of the Swiss bank, and followed the traitor, Lynd, to the exchange."_

Sitting back in her chair, M sighed. Should she classify Lynd as a traitor, or a victim? The full extent of what Lynd had passed on to the enemy was still unknown – as was how long she had been doing it. Shaking her head, M decided to let the label of traitor stand for now, and prepared to continue typing. Just as her fingers found the keyboard, her phone rang, startling her.

Recognizing the number on caller I.D., she picked it up immediately. "Bond?" she asked, "Where are you?"

"Downstairs," came the reply. "But I can't stay. I left you a present, though." M tried desperately to read Bond's tone, but his voice was neutral, as usual. Still, he needed to know.

"Listen, Bond… The funeral – "

"I've gotta go," Bond answered curtly, and hung up the phone. M bit back her frustration. The man was still grieving – he just did it in his own way. She pushed the button to talk to her assistant.

"Villiers, Bond said he left a present for me in the lobby. Would you be so good as to find out what it is?" M heard a slight rustling as he rose from his chair.

"Yes ma'am. One moment."

Villiers called her from his cell phone. "Um… it seems that Bond captured a man known as Mr. White. According to the note Bond left, White is part of the same organization as Le Chiffre."

"What?!" M sat back in shock. He had been able to find a link after all.

"The prisoner appears to have been shot in the knee, and possibly dropped a few times on the way here. Armed guards are escorting him to the infirmary now."

M suppressed a smile – knowing, as her assistant did, that Bond had likely taken a few frustrations out on the man. "Thank you, Villiers. Please keep me informed of White's condition. I want him isolated from Mathis, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Villiers before hanging up.

The head of MI6 sat back again, the report instantly on hold. She wondered how Bond had found out about this mysterious Mr. White.

**So soon may I follow  
When friendships decay,  
And from love's shining circle  
The gems drop away!**

Bond stepped out of the Military Intelligence building and took a deep breath. His hands – clenched into fists since grabbing White – finally began to relax. Bond had controlled his impulses long enough; Mr. White would live. But as James had come to realize, there were things worse than death.

_Like being left behind_, he thought. He started walking down the street, lost in his memories. He wandered aimlessly through London. It was home, and yet, it was not. The only home he had ever found was in Vesper's arms. It was the one place he had felt at peace.

And that peace had been stolen from him.

Bond watched as a man walked past him and into a nearby building. When he caught a glimpse of what he thought was Vesper inside, Bond realized he was losing his grip. Then he noticed the hearse parked outside of the small church.

_The funeral,_ James thought, dully. _M was trying to tell me about it. I can't have stumbled across it by accident…_ He laughed bitterly and climbed the stone steps, determined to prove his outrageous theory wrong.

**When true hearts lie withered  
And fond ones are flown  
Oh! Who would inhabit  
This bleak world alone? **

James entered and found himself standing at the back of the church, near a portrait of Vesper that had been wreathed in roses. This was indeed her funeral. Up on the altar, he could see her coffin – the lid standing open. Bond was familiar with corpses; he had been around many of them in his military career. There was something… phony about them – like bad wax impressions.

In his mind, he knew she was dead. He had watched her die – and had failed to bring her back. But there were times he could still feel her in his arms; her soft breath on his cheek. He saw her face on strangers in the street. _If this is love_, Bond thought, _it's a curse._

He turned and stumbled out of the church. Slamming the large oak door behind him, he walked to the nearest pub. After downing so much scotch that he could barely see straight, he picked up on the first brunette to cross his path and led her to a hotel. As she lay in his arms late into the night, it seemed to James, just for a moment, to be Vesper. He held the woman – the object, the means to an end – closer, and could almost hear the soft heartbeat of his lost love.

* * *

So, what do you think? ;-D

I was wondering if anyone caught what I'm doing with the use of Bond verses James in the narrative…

Or am I being too subtle?


	3. Author's Note

A/N: Just wanted to let you know that since this story is becoming longer than I intended, and is no longer going to be in songfic format, it is being continued in a new story called: _It's Not Over_.

Enjoy!

Linwe


End file.
